It's stopped raining. In the afternoon a posse of hardy cyclists venture through the village . No sooner here than they're gone . A meli-melange of red and blue lycra disappearing , laughing , into the distance .
The greengrocers wife sees me park the car. She raps her knuckles on the shops plate glass window to grab my attention . '' M'Ongoose. We have potatoes from the Ile de Re ". All the other shoppers neglected as she explains that these potatoes are the best in the world. '' The soil is full of iodine " . The neglected shoppers nod and murmur in agreement. Another step towards educating this visitor from the north .